It's that time again... the time when I say I'm too busy to keep this blog updated. Not that it's too much of a surprise if you've been following me (or nagging me), but now it's official. I won't go into detail on the reasons why I'm busy because excuses are excuses.
And as always, this is not an end all be all. I'll post some posts when I get the chance, but it will most likely not be on a monthly basis. In any case, I have a back catalog of interesting entries that should keep any newcomer entertained for a while.
But I won't leave you all totally hanging. I did promise to make at least one post in the month of September and so I'll leave you with the stylings of an artist who just won't stop being awesome: Audrey Assad (you can check out a little blurb about her at the end of this).
If this blog is reaching it's key demographic, then these songs should be the songs that you grew up with. Well, maybe not so much grew up with as grew up around. And no... there's not going to be any "MMMBop," "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm" or any other song that has more than two consecutive M's in its title (at least not in the body of the post...).
Hanging on to the last tired thread of 80's New Wave is Depeche Mode with their release of Violator in March of 1990. And it's not like they're posing in any way. They're just doing what they do, and doing it well. Violator has a well-crafted darkwave feel as the band brings the poppy sounds of electronica back to its somber roots (NIN and co. would take it further in the coming years).
Lyrically the album is minimalist and interpretive (which wards away the creepy stalker motif that plagues the genre), but the music can seem to drag on if you're listening to it anywhere but an indie discoteque. It starts to pick up after "Enjoy the Silence" (one of their best-known hits), ending with the tribal-themed "Clean."
"Policy of Truth" by Depeche Mode
1991 - Temple of the Dog - Temple of the Dog
Two of my all-time favorite albums (Wish and Nevermind) came out this year, and I could spend an exhorbinant amount of time discussing both, but I'll spare you the torture... for now...
If you're a fan of grunge and get giddy at just the idea of Eddie Vedder and Chris Cornell harmonizing for an hour, then definitely go grab a copy of Temple of the Dog. Otherwise, be aware that it doesn't seem like the band was striving for fame with this release (I suggest listening to "Hunger Strike" to gage how much early 90's you can handle).
"Times of Trouble" by Temple of the Dog
1992 - L7 - Bricks Are Heavy
The Seattle sound continues with the all-female L7. Their breakthrough Bricks Are Heavy is heavy, sounding as if Joan Jett had replaced James Hetfield and began fronting Metallica. The album is straightforward and doesn't drag on, but it doesn't offers much variety besides alternating between fast and mid-tempo tracks.
Back in the day the single "Pretend We're Dead" allowed impressionable young women to join in the grunge craze, and today L7's back catalog presents a more down-to-earth female approach to hard rock than the typical Evanescene or Lacuna Coil song.
"Mr. Integrity" by L7
1993 - Bikini Kill - Pussy Whipped
Whoever said that only guys could do punk? Have you forgotten about Sheena? Well, if L7 brings the grunge then Bikini Kill brings the grit. As can be inferred from its title, Pussy Whipped replaces any traces of femininity with an over-abundance of feminist-ity. Being forerunners of the riot grrrl revolution, Bikini Kill's music is in of itself a statement, saying that girls can use the same exact tools as boys and be just as independent, empowered and sexist.
However, if you don't feel like listening too intently to the message, then you don't have to worry since you can hardly understand what's being screamed anyways (try your hand at decifering "Lil' Red," although if you do figure it out try not to be offended). Not for the faint of heart, PW is very noisy up through "Hamster Baby," whereafter the album makes a surprising transition to a mellower post-hardcore for the last three songs and finishes with the sentimental "For Tammy Rae." At the very least, the album serves as an honest observation of a polarized counterculture.
The 90's begot a slew of post-adolescent bands trying their hand at this "new" art of writing songs about failed romances and emerging from broken homes. Due to an early oversaturation of the genre, not only were these bands forced back into suburban obscurity save a one-hit-wonder but it also seemed like alternative rock would go the way of disco. For all intents and purposes, alt rock did have the stylings of a cultural phase (like this year's peculiar facination with house) and at the surface Weezer looked like any other all-male foursome trying to make it on the radio. However, a short listen to one of their songs reveals an appreciable talent that keeps you tuned in almost 20 years later.
In their debut Weezer, the band was able to deliver something that was both honest and entertaining. Most musicians at the time were only able to perform under one flag and compromise the other, whether they be too idealist or too traditional. The opener "My Name Is Jonas" tells you that, "Sure, life is hard and our loud guitars will reflect our insatiable angst with the world, but we're willing to make lemonade and insert a Cheap Trick-inspired solo wherever the heck we want!" And the whole album is filled with this notion of wanting to be somebody simultaneously important and uninportant ("In the Garage"), which is interesting to observe and easy to identify with.
Aside from this convoluted and wholly amateur characterization, The Blue Album is simply a fun CD as Weezer unites the best of two decades with the thread of their quirky creativity. Although you may notice some repeated riffs by the time you get to "Only In Dreams," you have to admit that it was an awesome first try. So awesome indeed that time has produced covers and mash-ups and tributes galore ("Buddy Holly," "Surf Wax Off Your Shoulder" and "Undone (The Sweater Song)" to name a few). I guess you could say that the album was so good that the band reused the title two more times (with another instance of this projected for 2015).
In the midst of their post-Dookie fame, Green Day knew that they had to deliver with their next release. The reputation of their northern California punk origins and the sustainability of the culture becoming increasingly accepting to such scenes hinged on it. But that didn't phase the power trio one bit. For their own sake did they need to rock hard, and Insomniac is a testament to that.
Although not as blockbuster as Dookie, Insomniac gives its fans what they're looking for. You've got the almost-metal-turned-punk "Brain Stew/Jaded" and the drum fills of Cool and bass stylings of Dirnt in songs like "Panic Song" and "Stuck with Me."And judging by all the rants and cursing provided throughout by Armstrong, you know you've got the right band. Their following albums Nimrod and Warning would embarrassingly fall short of these expectations (though not not worth listening to), and band wouldn't be recognizable again until they became idiots.
Insomniac is fast, but still far from thrash... rushed in the sense that once a song appears to fully constructed and appreciated, it's on to the next one. With this mindset, it feels like "Walking Contradition" ends the album abruptly, leaving even the most sadistic anti-Green Day musical fundamentalist (which is basically anyone who demands more from a song than just power chords... myself included in this regard) strangely wanting more, even if it's just restarting the CD for a couple of seconds.
With the mid-90's, we reach that awkward period of trying to keep the alternative momentum going. Sure, the last couple of years since In Utero have been exciting, but even a week needs a Sunday. Enter post-grunge, where the heart hasn't left the songs but the energy has. I'm not down-talking this progression in any way. On the contrary, this opened doors for bands like the Wallflowers. The roots rock sound of songs like "One Headlight" revitalized a mainstream tired of being bombarded with punk-derivative single after single.
(Note: I was considering writing about the 1996 album Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy instead, but that story has already been posted here.)
"The Difference" by The Wallflowers
1997 - Harvey Danger - Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?
If you chanced upon American Pie you may have heard "Flagpole Sitta" somewhere in the film. Commonly and erroneously attribitued to blink-182 (possibly due to their cameo in the film), the song is actually by Harvey Danger, a band that takes self-depreciation to the level that blink takes toilet humor. Usually this approach to music should be avoided because it may prove to be dangerous and/or unoriginal, but something about the band's unapologetic and poetry slam-esque sound dissuades these preconceived notions and invites one to just hear them out.
Don't be fooled: Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone? is still written by dissatisfied young adults who hold grudges against their ex-girlfriends (see "Private Helicopter"). However, this isn't like other collection of whiny teenage torch songs in that there's a solid attempt at conveying the disposition of the disgruntled. With diary I mean journal in hand, Harvey Danger takes us to the heart... the charred and scarred heart not yet healed from wounds of isolation ("Terminal Annex"), abortion ("Problems & Bigger Ones") and lost loved ones ("Jack the Lion").
It'd would have been arguably more productive if they tried harder to see how their partners were affected by their failed romanticism. Nevertheless, WHATMG? serves as a superior cathartic substitute to any Fall Out Boy release (with Infinity on High being a great album in it's own respect).
"Old Hat" by Harvey Danger
1998 - Garbage - Version 2.0
When Butch Vig isn't busy producing breakthrough records, he gets the band together and kindly takes the backseat (or, more specifically, the drumseat) to Shirley Manson, the frontwoman of Garbage. Manson provides a voice for the other half of the Harvey Danger relationship: the modern 90's female filled with apathy and impatience towards the all-too-common shell-of-a-man man whose moody indecisiveness and calculated courtship render him incapable of Eastwood charge or Bond confidence, causing him to suffer emasculation when contrasted with the mere image of so effiminate an actor as Leonardo DiCaprio. In short, Manson is no man's woman (although she kinda wants to be...).
Version 2.0 maintains the decade's alternative edge mixed with a bit of 70's pop sensibility, melded together via danceable electronica melodies. With uncompromising creativity, the band authors singles like "When I Grow Up" which haven't been this fun since the Pretenders or this explicit since Alanis Morissette. There's a sincere blend of emotions throughout the album, where tracks asserting an independence distinct from the feminism of Bikini Kill ("I Think I'm Paranoid") could easily be followed by a song portraying the vocalist's search for a vulnerable love, albeit wayward in approach ("You Look So Fine"). Pop nonetheless, it's worth picking up if you're feeling 90's but not feeling Christina Aguilera.
"Special" by Garbage
1999 - Jimmy Eat World - Clarity
A while back I had the thought of writing a post about emo music which would deny the authenticity of the genre and characterize it as nothing more than a phrase conjured up by recent fads that just happened to make its way into musical lexicon. But after taking some time to cool my suprisingly defensive idealism, I began to discover the diversity within post-hardcore and became exposed to albums like End on End, Diary and Pinkerton. There was no way of avoiding the unique and communal qualities of this brand of music, which was enough to endow this approach to songwriting with the special name of "emotional hardcore."
Jimmy Eat World has experienced several stages of maturity since its initial formation in 1993. Starting off with a heavy punk sound, they toned it down for 1996's Static Prevails. Three years later, the band released Clarity which would not only prove to be their softest album but also become a staple of emo. True, Jimmy Eat World has always been an emotional band. But unlike any other album which can be written off as having that "typical JEW sound," the presentation of Clarity is such that the band is writing not for themselves but for the genre.
A good chunk of Clarity is slow, quiet and sentimental like "A Sunday." And like any good alternative album you've got your loud crys like "Blister." But it's in gems like "For Me This Is Heaven" that you'll appreciate the marraige of the soft and abrasive... the charged and the drawn out. Couple this with ambiguously personal lyrics and you're in for a pensive ride.
If you can stomach the extened instrumentals and the pinings of Jim Adkins, then you won't be disappointed. I personally perfer their later stuff, but the 16-minute long album closer "Goodbye Sky Harbor" poses as an appropriate farewell to a year, a decade, a century and a millennium possessing both an uncertainty for and a hope in a better future.
Last March, I wrote a post in honor of my father's birthday. It featured the world-famous "Mi Querido Viejo" by Piero and I though it apt to revisit the song for this special day. Albeit beautiful, it's a pretty tricky song to play and even trickier to find adequate tutorials.
After due diligence, I discovered effective resources and I'm happy to share my findings. I'm pretty tone-deaf, but I find that the chords from La Cuerda match the song really well. And this was backed by a short how-to video by Señor Carliros shown below. I also find it really great to play on a nylon-stringed acoustic guitar.
I implore all music experts to correct me where necessary, and everyone to thank your fathers and father figures. =D
"Mi Querido Viejo" by Piero
Am E Es un buen tipo mi viejo F C Que anda solo y esperando E Am Tiene la tristeza larga E Am De tanto venir andando
G E Yo lo miro desde lejos F C Pero somos tan distintos E Am Es que crecio con el siglo G C E Con tranvia y vino tinto
E Am Viejo mi querido viejo G C Ahora ya caminas lento E Am Como perdonando el viento E Am Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo E Am Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
G E El tiene los ojos buenos F C Y una figura pesada E Am La edad se le vino encima E Am Sin carnaval, ni comparsa
G E Yo tengo los años nuevos F G C Y el hombre los años viejos E Am El dolor lo lleva dentro G C E Y tiene historia sin tiempo
E Am Viejo mi querido viejo G C Ahora ya caminas lerdo E Am Como perdonando el viento E Am Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo E Am Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
A while back when I was biking home from class I got to thinking about a cover, and then another, and then another... and so decided to do another countdown. Hope you enjoy!
Ok, this one isn't so much a cover since Scottish singer-songwriter Colin Hay was the former vocalist of the pop-rock band Men at Work. The band formed in Austrailia in 1979 and is best known for their homage to the homeland "Down Under." In 1986, the band broke up and Colin Hay pursued a successful solo carrer. He's been known to re-record songs he composed himself (like "Overkill") and some of these recordings find their way into popular programming (like Scrubs).
Listen to the cover (studio) here.
Listen to the original here.
Yup... it's been over four months since my last post. I've been itching to get back, but along with all the responsibilities of a senior engineering student and intern I just haven't been listening to music as often (I've gotten too busy even for that!).
I have a huge post in the works and I'm only four paragraphs away from finishing, but that also means I'm about four hours away from finishing (it's the bane of my OCD...). And I was going to work on it some more tonight, but then I was distracted by a YouTube video of a friend's cover. Then I got to appreciating all my musical friends and how much I admire their presence and influence in my life.
So in their honor (and without their consent), I'm showcasing their talent to my Internet friends (I call you friends because who else would be this patient with me). All the featured songs are covers, which is of no surprise (if you don't know me by now...).
"Jayvee's So Last Summer (Taking Back Sunday Cover)" by Taking Back Jayvee
I remember when I first met each of the performers for the first time. I first heard of Sherwin Rio as the guitarist of the Jacksonville alternative band Dancell, and I was as excited as a Japanese schoolgirl when I got the chance to be the first to show him around UF! Humble to the extreme (which is a characteristic of all of these artists), I'm amazed at the depth of heart Sherwin portrays when he plays music, especially when he plays for others.
I also heard about Kathryne Lopez before I met her, but when I actually heard her for the first time I was blown away! She and her family were sitting behind me during Mass, but when she sang the Responsorials it sounded like she was in front of me. I scouted for the owner of these resonding pipes to no avail, only to meet her face-to-face afterwards. Kathryne has a way of enveloping the listener with the beauty of her voice, but the true beauty lies in her realization that this Grace is not her own.
A year ago, a good friend of ours, Jayvee, was leaving us to start his carrer in Texas. At a going-away get-together, the dynamic duo of Sheryne dedicated a cover-parody of Taking Back Sunday's "You're So Last Summer" to send him off right.
As I discussed a while back, Christian music is not as cookie-cutter as some people make it out to be. Therein lies a great diversity, and that's where Dy-Verse comes in. Upon arriving to UF, Nick Torres had no aspiration to be the talented Catholic hip-hopper that he is. But as a result of various golden thread circumstances, he was led onto a path of artistic expression to convey his lack of fulfillment in earthly pleasures and his restless pursuit towards a greater purpose.
A few months back, Nick entered an MTV contest to remix a Juanes song for a chance to meet the man himself. He submitted his revision of "A Dios Le Pido" ("I Ask God") and won! But putting aside all the temporary glamour (which is easy to do), it's finally great to have the song live up to its name and not have its meaning confided to a single stanza as before.
(Update: Dy-Verse joined the rap supergroup FoundNation and their debut release Univeral is out! Get it here, here and here!)
"If It Means A Lot To You (A Day to Remember Cover)" by Amy Rigby
Facebook makes it really easy to be a creeper, even when I'm not trying (hmm, I'm not sure if that came out right...). This video popped up on my Newsfeed and I was surprised because I didn't know Amy Rigby played guitar. Granted, both of us have always been busy with our respective majors and were left with the occassional "Hi! How have things been?" as the extent of our communication. But I know her well enough say that she is friendly in that she embodies the definition of "friend" given by C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves.
I was really glad to come across this other side of Amy, but it's a little bittersweet. Although she nails this unplugged cover of "If It Means A Lot To You" by A Day to Remember, it's so good that it almost makes me want to take down any recorded attempts I have at singing and playing guitar.
Happy New Year! There's been a surge of 80's revivalism in the mainstream in recent years, but I bet that even the know-it-all hipsters don't know what makes their scene so unoriginal. But this post isn't about that or Sixteen Candles or the Human League. It's about the albums that make you realize that the 80's was like no other decade before or after.
One Sunday evening in early December 2010, I was driving home with the radio tuned to Wind-FM. It was broadcasting a weekly special called Off the Record, where influential artists are interviewed by Joe Benson about their lives and recordings. That week's featured rock group: The Who. I listened for about 5-10 minutes and caught Pete Townshend discussing his solo debut, Empty Glass, and specifically the song "A Little is Enough":
Townshend [Paraphrase]: "When I left The Who, there were a lot of trials occuring in my life. Aside from bouts of musician's writer's block, I was sieving through financial burdens and a rift in my marraige. One day, I asked my wife if she loved me. She took a moment to think about it... and when she responded she said, 'I guess I love you a little.'
"I was significantly distraught at this answer, and went to my personal Sufi master for guidance. When I told him of the trouble I had with my wife, he said, 'So what's the problem? She said she loves you a little. Shouldn't that be enough? Don't you know that all love comes from God, and that His love is infinite? Whether one person loves another a lot or a little is relative, because any love we are capable of expressing is simply a drop in the vast ocean that is God's love. And given its origin, that drop of love is infinite in of itself.' From this conversation, I would eventually write 'A Little is Enough.'"
